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by greedy_dancer



Series: Tumblr ficlets [9]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1849735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greedy_dancer/pseuds/greedy_dancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If the team expects Nick to read a late-night work email because it appears to be from Harry Styles with a pic attached, they have another thing coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> I reblogged [this clip from the radio show](http://lost-in-daze.tumblr.com/post/89797969052/so-magog83-ran-out-of-space-so-i-am-posting-this) where Finchy and the team discuss how they cleverly disguise work emails to Nick by titling them “Bieber with no pants on” and so on, and I tweeted: 
> 
> _Fic where Harry sends Nick nudes in a last-ditch ploy to seduce him & Nick deletes them thinking it’s Finchy disguising another work email._
> 
> And then over the next 2 hours and, um, 87 tweets, this happened. SOZ, non-1D people on my Twitter feed. 
> 
> (Unbetaed so feel free to point out typos and the such!)

Nick is _so_ over this. “Very funny, Finchy, like I’d fall for that one.”

"What is it this morning, Nicholas?" Finchy doesn’t even look up from his computer screen, which of course only annoys Nick more.

"Bieber’s all used up, so now you’re moving on to Harry?"

"Nick, I actually have no idea what you’re referring to."

"Well, whatever that late-night email was about I didn’t read it, so you’d better catch me up."

Matt sighs. “ _I didn’t send you any late-night emails._ ”

"Tell Fiona and Ian to stop then. Actually, make it an all-staff email. I’m not opening any more correspondence titled ‘Here’s something you should see, brackets private,’ even if it does come from Harry’s address. How did you do that, by the way? Isn’t that illegal?"

That gets Matt’s attention. “Of course you can’t- Wait, you got sent an email _from Harry’s address_? With an attachment? And you didn’t look at it?”

Matt’s eyes are bulging out of his face, and Nick thinks there’s no way he’s good enough an actor to pull this of, which means- Oh god. Nick scrambles back to his own computer, opens his Gmail account - thankfully he might never open his mail but never cleans up his inbox, either. The message is still there, from Harry, with its mysterious title and attachment, and Nick very carefully flags it as IMPORTANT because now he knows it’s real he sure as hell isn’t going to open it in the office. What happens off air happens on air, and Matt’s looking at Nick with that face that means Nick’s going to have a very annoying show.

Matt doesn’t actually bring up the email on air, which is a blessing, but Nick still can’t stop thinking about it. It’s probably nothing, right? Just a joke. Harry almost never emails him, he prefer texting, but sometimes he’ll send funny things he found online, pictures of interesting-looking fruit or gifs of children making hilarious faces.

Nick doesn’t know why it would be any different this time, except for the funny feeling in his gut. Things have been a bit weird between him and Harry lately, and now this - _(Private)_.

So he waits until he’s back home, and then he decided to get dinner first, and then he potters around the house, eyeing the computer lying on the coffee table. 

He doesn’t know how long he can keep this up, but he doesn’t have to find out because when he checks his phone he actually has a texts from Harry.

_Hey, did you see the email I sent you, maybe you didn’t, if you did but you don’t want to talk about it it’s fine just delete and we can pretend I never said anything. xxH_

And the second one goes: _Actually please delete it either way, thanks._

Nick’s stomach tightens even more because, yep, something is definitely going on there. He still doesn’t open the email.

It’s not until he’s in bed and checked that the alarms on his phone are set correctly, that he finally he pulls up his inbox (seeing things on the smaller phone screen makes them less real somehow). He opens Harry’s email and its single pic.

It’s a bit grainy, like it was taken in darkness with no flash, and he recognizes Harry’s hand, and he thinks Harry’s… Thigh? And something black, fabric, which must be Harry’s underwear. Jesus.

There’s a single sentence in the email, “I’ve been thinking of getting another tattoo right here, what do you think” and Nick doesn’t understand what Harry was even _thinking_ , sending him this. You’d think someone would have given those boys a stern lecture on the basics of online safety after the past month.

At least Harry doesn’t actually have his dick out - tattoo talk notwithstanding, there’s no mistaking the kind of pic this is. Nick’s been lying to himself about a lot of things when it comes to Harry but he can’t deny he recognizes what’s actually going on here. (Nick’s cock isn’t confused either, firming up in his boxers.)

He doesn’t know how to respond so he texts Harry. _You lunatic_ , he sends.

He doesn’t have to wait long for a reply.  _You saw it then_ , Harry sends, and _What do you think_.

 _About the tattoo?_ Nick realizes he’s being deliberately obtuse but he doesn’t quite know what else to do. It’s not his first time sexting - ugh, he hates that word - nor is it the first time he and Harry are exchanging nonsensical late-night texts, but he honestly never thought the two would meet. It’s a little disconcerting.

 _If that’s what you want to react to, sure, I guess_ , Harry sends back.

Nick swallows, reaching a hand down to press against himself. His cock is much less confused than his brain is. He looks at the ceiling for a second, takes a deep breath, and types: _Itd be hot_ , pressing send before he can chicken out.

 _Yeah? You Sure?_ Harry replies.

 _Fuck yes,_ Nick sends back, even though he’s not sure what exactly he’s agreeing to. He finds that he doesn’t much care. He’s spent too long with a big neon “NO” blinking in his brain when it came to thinking of Harry in this way and now it’s all flooding out.

 _Then you should send me one now_ is the next message he receives. _It’s only fair. I showed you mine._

Fuck, it’s so hot under the covers. Nick can’t quite believe he and Harry are doing this right now, tumbling head first into it when they spent so much time carefully ignoring the tension between them. 

 _Technically you did not show me yours_ , he types, because he needs to buy himself some time before he sends Harry Styles Off Of 1D a dick pic. His clever plan backfires rather spectacularly when, a few seconds later, his phone beeps with a picture message and that’s. Yep, that’s Harry’s cock right there, laurels and _Brasil!_ tattoos visible, along with the cross on Harry’s hand where he’s holding himself.

Harry’s hard and the hand is slightly blurry, like maybe it was moving when Harry snapped the pic. The image arrived so quickly that it either means Harry had wanking pics stored in his phone ready to send - Nick fervently hopes he’s not stupid enough - or Harry’s doing it _right now_. Right now, Harry is lying somewhere naked and hard and touching himself and sending Nick the evidence.

Nick doesn’t - he can’t - he just - he spends a minute just trying to come to grips with the reality of what’s happening to him, and clearly it’s taking too long for Harry because Nick’s phone beeps again.

 _Nick?_ and  _May I see yours now please_ and that one is so incredibly Harry that Nick can’t help laughing. He laughs even as he’s scrambling to take off his pants, trying to figure out an angle that won’t look too terrible. He really regrets those croissants.

In the end he just thinks, fuck it, and frames a close-up that’s mostly his cock and his thighs, because he’s quite proud of those. It’s an average picture at best, but at least if (when) it ends up in the Mirror he won’t be too shamed. He takes a deep breath and presses send.

The phone starts ringing.

Nick barely looks at the screen before he answers - if anyone other than Harry is calling him right now they’ll just have to deal. But of course, it is Harry, panting in Nick’s ear for a second before he says, “Nick?”

"Yeah, I’m here," Nick says. "Fuck, Harry, where are you?"

"Hotel room," Harry answers, clipped, like he’s having trouble talking already.

Nick can hear Harry’s harsh breaths and he wonders if it’s the situation that got Harry worked up so quickly or if he always does. Or maybe he’s been wanking for a while already and just called Nick for the finale, as it were.

"Fuck, Nick," Harry continues, "are you…" and Nick puts his hand back on himself and gives himself a couple firm strokes so he can say "Yeah, I am," even though he doesn’t really want to get too into it. He wants to keep focused, keep listening to Harry’s noises - the tiny whines coming with each of Harry’s breaths, the rustling, the occasional gasps.

Harry’s not having that, though. “Nick,” he says again, and fuck, Nick’s already obsessed with that sound. “Nick, come on, you too.”

And really, who is Nick to resist Harry Styles’ sex voice? He rubs at himself with a few fingers, collecting the moisture that’s been gathering while he listened, and then he tightens his hand and strokes, just a few good tugs, just enough to make his breathing speed up a little.

"Nick, I can’t hear you," Harry complaints, the demanding little fucker, and Nick speeds up some more, says "Maybe I’m just not as noisy as you are, popstar," but he tucks his phone between his ear and the pillow so he can get his other hand down to his balls, see if he can give Harry what he wants. (They haven’t even kissed yet and he’s already whipped. This is going to be a problem in Nick’s life, he can tell already.)

He works himself with both hands, Harry still breathing loud and laboured in his ear, and _fuck yeah_ , that’s good. He can feel his hips start to move, his breath getting shorter with effort, and he must make a sound because Harry moans, “Yeah, Nick, more,” and it’s working, oh fuck is it working for Nick, knowing that Harry’s listening, jerking his lovely prick in his hotel room and listening to Nick trying to make himself come. Which is definitely going to happen sooner rather than later - embarrassing, considering he’s got years on Harry and Harry seems fine to keep going.

"Are you going to come?" Harry asks just then, and his voice is high, strained, and Nick revises his judgement. They’re both equally a mess, he’s pretty sure.

"Fuck, yes, Haz," he pants. "You?"

"Nick, Nick, I’m so close," Harry grits out, and then it’s like the floodgates open. "So fucking- fuck, I wish I could see, I wanna see you, I wish I was there with you, touching you, want you to touch me, fuck,  _Nick_ ,” and then there’s a sharp cry in Nick’s ear that can only be Harry coming, holy shit, Nick heard Harry come, Nick *made* Harry come. That’s the thought that pushes Nick over, makes him fuck his hand and rub at the head of his cock until he starts coming with a great heaving sigh, turning his head towards the phone to make sure Harry hears it.

Things get awkward for a minute, after, when the heat’s dissipated and Nick’s back to lying on his bed alone, underwear still stuck around one foot, hands and stomach covered in come, silence from Harry on the other end. Phone sex is like porn that way, Nick thinks. Gets weird the minute you come.

He wipes his hands as best he can and holds the phone back to his ear. There’s another beat of silence, and then Harry asks, “You still here?”

"Yeah, I am," he answers.

"So, um. Was that- That was good, right?"

How this tentative Harry is the same person who just talked Nick to orgasm on the phone after sending him a half-naked picture in an email is boggling Nick’s mind a little. It’s also reassuring, kind of, to know that Nick’s not the only one feeling slightly lost and a little bit scared right now.

"Yeah, Harry, it was good. So hot. You were great."

"Okay, good," Harry says. "Does that mean you might want to do it again sometime?"

Nick takes a deep breath, and finds that it’s one of relief. “Are you joking? That was- Whenever you like, popstar. Just give me the call.”

"Oh, okay. Okay, good. I was thinking, you know, I’ll be back in London next week? Maybe we could, um, leave the phones out of it? Probably safer anyway, privacy-wise."

Nick breathes deep and closes his eyes for a second. They’re actually doing this, then. For real. In person. 

"Course," he says. "Come over when you’re back in town. Whenever you want."

"I’ll email you," Harry says, and they both chuckle. "Or give you a call."

The silence is comfortable this time, Nick settling back into his pillows. His eyes are closing - it’s later than he’s used to these days, and coming always puts him to sleep - but he doesn’t want to ring off.

Neither does Harry, apparently, because next Nick hears the sound of a tap running on the other end of the line, Harry cleaning up, maybe getting a glass of water, getting ready for bed too. Harry took his phone with him into the bathroom.

Nick’s chest aches all of a sudden, yearning to see Harry, to get to hold him, to kiss him. He can’t believe their first time happened over the phone and he hasn’t even kissed Harry yet. Bloody modern romances. Nick hates the 21st century.

Nick’s starting to struggle to stay awake as the silence stretches on. Did he miss Harry saying goodnight? No, Harry’s voice comes back. “Are you still awake?”

Nick hums his agreement, too lazy to form actual words.

"Go to sleep, Nick," he hears, and he nods into his pillow, barely managing to mumbles, "K, love you," before he feels himself go, eyes closing of their own accord, hand still clutching his phone.

(There’s another beep, but Nick’s already asleep - he sees the picture the next morning. It’s Harry’s face, this time, sleepy and soft, his hair everywhere on the white hotel pillow, a small smile on his lips, his eyes half closed and so, so fond. “Can’t wait to see you soon. xxH” is the caption. Nick takes it back. He loves the 21st century.)

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here on Tumblr](http://greedydancer.tumblr.com/post/89909944092/save-image-as-nick-harry-2k-explicit).


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